Behind my eyes,
tugs the dirty-fingernailed fist
of a feral child.
She is unkept and unkempt.
Her hair hangs like a stiff, matted rug.
She doffs her confidence like a smudge.
If I allowed, wordlike sounds
would tumble out
like underwater whale songs.
But I’ve built myself like a barricade.
I’ve poised myself in front,
behind,
and above.
A cage would not be enough
to shield this wild cipher.



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